Why Does Someone Have to Die
by Artemid
Summary: Erik Lehnsherr only has one goal in his undead life; to make his creator pay for what he has become. Charles Xavier leads a quiet life, slowly working on his research, which attracts the attention of one Sebastian Shaw. Vampire!AU - future Erik/Charles
1. Meeting Adjourned

First X-men First class fic, answer to a prompt at 1stclass_kink comm on LJ. This will probably go into Erik/Charles territory later on. I'm a bit nervous 'cause it's been a while since I last wrote something but I loved the movie and the characters so I thought, why not give it a try. Anyways, here's the first part, hope you enjoy! Reviews make me happy :)

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><p>Blood flows freely into his crystal glass as Erik watches with detachment at the two women slowly circling each other, fangs out and shoulders tensed, both ready to pounce. The show tonight, like every other night, holds no surprises and Erik is already bored. A quick scanning of the area –<em>always be aware of your surroundings, even familiar ones like this<em>- leaves him uninterested and quietly brooding in his corner.

A small movement to his right catches his attention and a fragrance of burned flowers invading his nostrils is all the warning he gets as a petite dark-skinned woman sits at the bar stool next to him, leaning close to whisper in his ear.

"Looking quite dashing this evening, Mr. Lehnsherr." a smirk accompanies the words and Erik inclines his head slowly towards her direction, eyes cold and lips set into a thin line.

Angela Salvadore –_please, Mr. Lehnsherr, Angel for the friends_ – was his first acquaintance since he had moved in to the city capitol three months ago. She had run into him one cold night while he was hiding in a dark alley, finishing his last cigarette –_dreadful human habit, even after all those years still haven't find the strength to cut it_- and he never quite managed to lose her after that. She always found him, even when he was projecting "stay-away-from-me" vibes; _especially_ when he was projecting said vibes, which was, incidentally, all the time. Like now, for instance.

"Very…18th century, if you ask me." Angel continues with a rueful grin, sending a glance over his hat lying on the bar table. She takes a small sip of her rosy-red drink and turns around to look at him fully.

Erik picks up his glass and places it under his nose, taking his time to enjoy the smell of the dark blood inside as he slowly brings it to his lips. The taste is divine, warmness filling his mouth, and Erik wants to savor every moment of it. Unfortunately, Angel has other ideas.

"You know, I think I might interest you with a new piece of information I have acquired recently." She raises an eyebrow at him and finishes her drink with a swift gulp. Some of the liquid runs over her lips and she looks slightly manic, blood making a thin line towards the delicate cut of her chin.

There's a sudden loud noise coming from the stage, the women who were fighting from before deciding to settle their 'differences' by breaking one of the tables closer to the stage as they both go crashing on it, while the audience jeers and claps enthusiastically, faces pale and white fanged teeth gleaming in the artificial neon light.

"Let's get out of here." Angel steps off the stool, her silver-white heels clicking on the floor. "I know a place." She doesn't quite smirk but it's a close.

_I am sure you do_, Erik thinks and stands up elegantly, hand already holding his hat and glass, empty and forgotten now, on the bar. His cape flows behind him like a shadow following his every step and the black polished cane makes soft clinking noises as he makes his way outside the establishment, careful not to touch anyone while walking through the animated crowd.

x0x0x0x0x0x

Angel removes her heels and pads quickly on the wet wood, slinging the metal door with one hand as she stands aside to let Erik in. It's a dark room, more like a studio, smelling of naphthalene and burned circuits, ripped old sailing rags hanging from the ceiling. Erik is decidedly not impressed.

"Sorry it's not up to your standard but this really cannot wait, Mr. Lehnsherr." Angel's voice sounds unnaturally loud in the space, and Erik turns around to look at her as she presses a switch on, filling the room with a sickly green light.

"And what, exactly, it is that you have discovered?" Erik inquires, slight accent barely audible as he stares down at her with impossibly dark eyes.

"Well," Angel cocks her head and moves her hands to her hips in a slightly coyish gesture, "I think I deserve something in return for providing you with this information, don't you think?"

Let it be said that Erik Lehnsherr was not a patient man while he was still breathing and he definitely didn't start being so after his Change. This vampire standing in front of him thinks she can play silly games and make bargains with him. It would be laughable but Erik hasn't laughed for over 100 years and he certainly won't start now.

"I wonder how much you had to bent over to learn whatever it is that you learned" Erik comments dryly, quirking a mocking eyebrow at her. She scowls at his words, fangs barely visible as she bites her lip and raises her chin at him.

"You are not being very nice. I'm only trying to help."

"Are you, now?" he looks around slowly, eyes moving over the room before settling back into her. "How do I know that your offer to … 'help' me, as you say, isn't just your way of double-crossing me?" he hasn't taken a step, but Angel feels, all of a sudden, threatened.

"What?" she frowns, looking confused, her fingers twitching as she grows more agitated by the second.

"Tell me what you can possibly gain from this…" Erik pauses and moves his hand between them, gesturing to her and himself with two fingers, "…exchange."

Angel narrows her eyes, feeling her fangs growing, ready to tear something apart. "Why should I tell you anything about that, Mr. Lehnsherr? I don't know you _that_ well, after all." She's getting angry now, her beautiful face flushing while her fists clench by her side.

"Exactly my point, Angel. You don't know me, I don't know you. This doesn't strike me as a beneficiary partnership." Erik slowly twirls his cane between his fingers, the pointy end of it scratching on the ground.

"You want to get to know me?" Angel can't help but blurt, anger and fear still bubbling inside of her.

"_I want to know what you know_." Erik is done playing now. The cane suddenly stops moving, standing on its own in front of him while the green light filling the room flickers above them.

Angel doesn't get any more warning than a blur flashing into the corner of her eye, the room descending into darkness as the lights give out.


	2. Fear No one

It's too late and Charles knows he shouldn't have stayed in the library up until closing hours, forgetting dinner, but the book's subject was rather fascinating, a new arrival from the capitol's archives, which is a rare occasion in on itself, and he just couldn't leave it alone.

Now, while he makes his way across the empty parking lot, he can feel the warm air at the back of his neck, goosebumps trailing under his skin as he clutches the book against his chest like a prized possession.

There are faint voices coming from up ahead and Charles pauses, closing his eyes tight for a moment, tongue slowly licking red full lips, and then picks up his pace, quickly marching on towards his battered car.

Late Saturday night, of course they are all coming out now to have fun and drink, how could he forget himself like that? _Stupid, stupid, Charles._ He unlocks the car and throws the book at the backseat, swiftly sitting in the driver's place and putting the car in reverse with jerky moves.

He needs to get out of here and fast. He doesn't know how much he will last outside.

After a tense drive with the car's windows tightly shut and the doors locked from the inside, he manages to reach his apartment without an incident. He enters his bedroom and takes the phone from the nightstand, quickly clicking the first number of his speed dial.

He sits at the edge of his bed while listening to the phone ringing, all the while watching from between heavy curtains at the dim lighted street outside. Finally, after half a minute on hold, the other person on the line picks up.

"Yes?" a much too cheery voice comes out and Charles has to move the phone away from his ear for a moment. There are loud noises and heavy music blasting from the receiver and Charles sighs mentally.

"Raven?"

"Charles! I'm so glad you called! We are having a blast here, you should definitely come." There is a sudden click, then another voice yells into his ear, "Yeah, Charles, don't be a _loser_, come over-" before Raven obviously grabs the phone back and giggles – honestly, _giggles_- and adds "seriously, it will do you good, brother mine."

Charles feels a headache coming and raises a finger on his temple, slowly massaging the soft spot there.

"You know I can't do that, Raven." He says softly. "For that matter, you shouldn't either. You have to… be careful." he doubts his words will have any effect on his sister and he's right.

"Oh, _please_ Charles. Not now! We have talked about that. Anyways, have to go now; triple shots on the table!" then the beeping sound of the line getting disconnected.

Charles looks at the phone, shaking his head sadly, and puts it in its place.

He makes his way to the kitchen, opening the fridge and bending over to check on the last self where the last two pouches of dark red, almost black blood sit there, waiting for him to take them and drink them like the animal he is.

He'll need supplies again and soon. Feeding waits for no vampire, after all. He should know.

x0x0x0x

Charles leads a very secluded life. Afterlife. Undead life. Whichever the politically correct term for the monstrosity he has become suits him, this is it. Mistakes of the past should always be remembered and lessons should be learned from them.

Raven claims he always overreacts but Charles prefers to be safe than sorry. Or rather, he'd prefer _other people_ around him better be safe than sorry, -which, in turn, depends on how _Charles_ acts during certain… situations.

He is an anomaly. He knows and accepts that. What he could never accept –or, _thought_ he could never accept, as it turned out- is actually harming someone to fulfil his instinctual hunger.

Unfortunately, he seems to be one of the very few out there with the same opinion on the matter.

In less than two hours the sun will rise and here he is, waiting at the dark back alley of the local hospital, like a thief lurking for its prey. The blue door ahead of him remains resolutely locked and Charles leans against the rough wall, staring right at it like it can solve all of his problems.

Suddenly, there's a sound behind the door, the subtle click of it getting unlocked, and a tall, gangly figure emerges hesitantly from the shadows.

Charles sighs in relief before making his way towards the person who, upon realizing someone else is there, close to him, takes a step back quickly, almost stumbling on the door with his back.

"Hank, it's me. Charles" Charles tries his most soothing voice but the young man takes another step back, like he's trying to become one with the door behind him. Charles lowers his head, a pained expression on his face.

"Oh… h-hi Professor" Hank whispers quickly, and his hands stay awkwardly in front of him, like he doesn't quite know what to do with them, whether to raise them for a wave or to shield himself.

"I'm so sorry I came here on such short notice but, it's a bit of an emergency I'm afraid." Charles always forgets himself when he's focused on his studies and doesn't pay attention on the more important things, like, for example, the fact that he should _never ever stay out of supplies._

He doesn't want a repeat of that dreadful, horrible incident of the past.

"So. Can I please take them?" Charles inquires politely, watching as Hank immediately jumps up at his words and nods at him, glasses almost falling askew from his jerky movement.

"Yes, of course, here there are." Hank picks up a small portable refrigerator from the ground next to his feet and holds it in front of him, patiently waiting for Charles to take it with quick, efficient moves.

"Thank you, Hank. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, Professor." Hank pushes his glasses over his nose and twists his fingers nervously. "I'm always glad to help you."

Charles hides a smile at the young man's words. It's quite obvious how uncomfortable it makes Hank to be to such a close proximity with one of Charles' kind but still, he's kind enough to say otherwise.

"Well," Charles searches at the inside of his coat, looking at his pocket-watch, "it's getting late. Or early. I'd best be going."

"Oh yes, sure." Hank can't help but look relieved, slowly itching towards the dark room behind him and the safety it will undoubtedly provide should Charles decide to just grab him by the neck and have his wicked way with him.

Shaking his head to clear his bitter thoughts, Charles raises his left hand in a half wave, while he holds the portable fridge with his right against his hip. Hank nods once and gets inside quickly, door closing with a small thud.

Picking up his pace, Charles walks on the deserted street before him, the sky's color ominously turning a softer shade as the minutes pass.


	3. Closer to the Father

So sorry for any grammar mistakes, I'm trying to check the parts as I write them but some things might slip. Anyways, hope you enjoy and remember, reviews make me happy :)

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><p>Travelling always brings the worst out of Erik. Whichever the mode of transportation, he can never enjoy the journey and he knows he makes for a horrible passenger whenever he goes to one of his 'trips'.<p>

Fortunately, he doesn't have to endure this one for too long. The train comes to a stop with a loud whistling sound and Erik stands up slowly, picking up his only suitcase from the compartment store above his seat, and exits the private cabin with long, confident steps.

The streets are bustling with people, lights too bright illuminating the buildings and casting shadows over the pavements, loud voices seemingly emerging from every corner. Young kids run excitedly in circles while their parents try in vain to catch them, racy teenagers yelling obscenities to middle-age couples as they pass them on the street.

Erik walks briskly down the road, his dark eyes fixed ahead of him, with only one goal in his mind, only one purpose in his life from the moment he was Changed. Nothing will stop him from achieving it. If someone so much as tries to get in his way, he will tear them apart.

He doesn't understand what Shaw is doing here, staying low in this small, disgustingly cheery town and frankly, he doesn't care in the slightest. Wherever he goes, Erik will follow, like the loyal Childe that he is. Erik smirks darkly at the thought, his steps never faltering as he makes his way through the crowd.

Loyal Childe indeed.

x0x0x0x0x

The 'old prominent house' is, quite obviously, something a little more than a dump ready to crumble any second now. Erik is, definitely, not amused.

If he had the person responsible for providing him with this "excellent opportunity of a place to stay for a while" while taking care of business in the town, he would have throttle them on the spot. Or maybe drained them dry just for the single pleasure of it.

There's nothing he can do now though and the hours pass quickly. Sunrise is only an hour away and Erik doesn't want to find himself in the uncomfortable position of loitering around in the local graveyard like the embarrassing first days of his Change.

After all, he didn't come here to see the sights and comfort himself in luxuries.

He climbs the front stairs which creak under his weight and pushes violently at the wooden door with his elbow. The inside of the place looks worse than the outside, if that's even possible and Erik's almost non-existent patience is running thin.

With a scowl, he steps inside, the floor boards under his feet cracking loudly in the silence, and searches for the basement where a _specifically-asked-for_ silver shaded metal coffin should be waiting for him.

Fortunately, the person who directed him to this place didn't make the mistake of forgetting Erik's request or there would have been some really dire consequences for them.

Erik lies on his back with a practiced ease that comes from years of sleeping in a confined space and his last thought before darkness claims him is that tomorrow, everything ends, one way or another.

x0x0x0x0x

_Tonight, Shaw goes down_. There's nothing else on Erik's mind except these four words.

The sun has just set a couple of minutes ago and he doesn't waste any time, unlocking the coffin and stepping out of it gracefully. The white pillowed wall inside was surprisingly comfortable and Erik spares it a glance before focusing on the task at hand.

First things first, he needs substance. He needs to be strong to be able to pull his plan off and to do that, he will need lots and lots of feeding tonight, copious amounts of warm blood filling his mouth and running on his tongue.

A shark-like smirk forms on his lips as he makes his way out of the house. He might as well enjoy his last moments of pleasure before he meets Shaw and ends this, once and for all.

x0x0x0x0x

He disposes the last body quickly and efficiently, with familiar and practiced moves. Erik supposes he could have left the young man alive, if barely so, but from the looks of his before Erik had even gripped him and sunk his teeth roughly into his neck, he didn't look like he would last past a day. Crackheads and whores, he mentally scoffs.

The sheer stupidity of the humans and their feeble attempts to try and get away from him whenever he makes his presence known to them never fails to ignite feelings of disgust and contempt in him.

He cares not for them, as long as they keep providing his dinner for him.

There's only one thing Erik cares about in the world right now, and he is closer than ever of finally getting it.

If his information proves correctly –and he sincerely hope that it does, or he would have to unearth Angel from the hole that he put her in and make sure his displeasure is known- then, this is the place.

This is where life has lead Erik after all these despicable years.

Shaw is just inside these walls. If Erik was alive right now, he would be breathing heavily, palms sweaty and elevated pulse, heart beating loudly through his chest.

But he is not alive. He is his master's creature. _He_ made him the monster that he is today. And Erik will repay him tonight.

And so he stands, deadly still in the quite of the night, the mansion in front of him cold and unyielding, swallowed by the darkness around him.


	4. Of New Acquaintances

Here's the next chapter; just to warn you, it might take me a while to update this fic with the 5th part since I'm pretty busy with my thesis right now but worry not for I will NOT abandon the fic. Anyways, enjoy this chapter now :)

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><p>There's someone by his door, ringing the bell insistently, and Charles glances at the clock which shows that the hour is half past four in the morning.<p>

Well, this is certainly an unnatural occurrence.

He hasn't the slightest idea as to who it might be; Raven has keys to his place, his students surely wouldn't visit him at this ungodly hour and, simply put, he just isn't sociable enough for random visits of friends to be justified like that, right in the middle of a Sunday night.

Bewildered, he approaches the door and stands on his toes, carefully peeking through the tiny peep hole and trying not to make any noise in the process. The image is blurry but he thinks he sees someone with blond hair, their left hand poised and ready to ring the bell one more time.

With a huff, Charles takes a small step back to unlock and open his door which reveals what can only be described as trouble. Tall, wavy blond hair to the shoulders, wearing a short white pea coat and black leather boots up to the knee, the woman in front of him excludes an air of dangerousness out from her every pore.

"..Hello?" Charles asks regardless, because even in the face of danger, his upbringing and right manners come first. "How can I help you?"

The woman – _no, not a woman; this has, quite obviously, not been a woman for a very long time_- raises an eyebrow and with a flat voice, inquires, "Charles Xavier?"

Charles blinks and nods cautiously.

"Yes, I am Charles Xavier. And you are..."

"My name is Emma Frost," she starts, her tone business-like, "my partner and I have been following your research through your fascinating but rather sporadic publications and we are interested in a further discussion concerning the subject."

Charles definitely isn't expecting that. To be honest, he doesn't _know_ what he was expecting. However, a fellow vampire actually being interested in his research and not dismissing it as a child's wild dream…this was quite heartening news.

"Of course, I'd be glad to talk more in length about my research with you and your partner, Ms Frost," Charles says slowly, "would you like to come in-"

"I think it will be best if you accompany me to my partner's estate" Emma Frost cuts in smoothly, "he's been expecting you and will be most pleased if you could come with me."

The way she says it sounds quite simple and innocent but Charles can't help but feel like her words have a double meaning, like they hide something sinister behind, in case of a rejection.

But Charles is curious by nature, so, of course he accepts the invitation.

x0x0x0x0x

The ride is uneventful, though the route they follow is unknown to Charles, who, after living in this relatively small town for almost half the years of his human age, thought he knew every little road and corner of the place.

Their driver is a mute man –at least, Charles seems to thinks so, since the man in question hasn't uttered a word from the moment Charles and Ms Frost entered the car- named Janos who doesn't spare a glance to either of them as they take their seats at the back of the car and only nods once when Ms Frost says "To the estate, Janos."

The 'estate' is a magnificent looking building, all fine glasses and pure white marble walls. The land surrounding it is a beautifully styled garden with thick green grass and an impregnable looking fence out of sturdy, tall trees and brown-leaved bushes.

Charles is ushered inside the main entrance, a spacious room in all pale tapestries with inox window shields and snow white marble floors, when Ms Frost gently touches his arm and guides him towards a room on their right direction which is covered with mirrors everywhere the eye can catch, even the ceiling.

The point of having mirrors in this particular building, which so obviously belongs to a high class vampire, is lost on Charles, since no one of the current people present can see their reflections on them, but he keeps quiet.

A man waits inside the room, sitting behind a crystal clear office, his eyes cold even though his mouth is smiling slightly as he stands up to greet Charles. He is impeccably dressed in an ash-grey suit and his palm feels feather-light to Charles when he grips Charles' hand.

"Mr. Xavier, I am glad to finally meet you." The man gestures to a black sofa in front of his office and Charles takes a seat. "I'm Sebastian Shaw. I trust Emma spoke to you about why you are here?"

"She did mention something about my research and your apparent interest in it…?" Charles says while watching Sebastian Shaw walking to a min-bar set at the back of the room and pouring two drinks in a couple of wine glasses.

Charles takes the drink Mr. Shaw offers him, the dark red color of it hypnotizing and its odor making him almost dizzy with hunger.

This is _freshly spilled_ blood. Charles would recognize the smell of it everywhere, even though it has been almost a half a century since he gave in the temptation to taste it.

Politely, he moves the glass away from him and places it on the office. He cannot drink this. Charles knows himself. If he gives in, he won't be able to stop.

"Yes, well, I happen to be quite fascinated and curious I might add about your research, Charles." Mr. Shaw glances at him and the corner of his lips turn up. "May I call you Charles?" he takes a seat behind his office without waiting for an answer and brings his drink to his lips, pausing a little over the glass as he sniffs the fragrance of it before taking a delicate sip. "Ah, excellent, as always." He murmurs to himself.

"I am still working on the chemical compound of it. As you can understand, it's quite a revolutionary idea which, if it _can_ be brought to reality, it will undoubtedly change the way our whole kind works and operates." Charles feels excited talking about it, about the things that will change should his project work. Who knows, it might even make up a little bit for the things of the past that Charles has never forgiven himself.

"How far along are you with the practical applications of it?" Mr. Shaw narrows his eyes at Charles' untouchable drink but doesn't comment on it.

"We still have a long way to go." Charles deflates on this.

"'We'"?

Charles doesn't understand why but suddenly, he feels like he should keep Hank's involvement on the project away from Sebastian Shaw's ears. After all, a human, a living, breathing, warm-blood-rushing-through-his-veins human working with a vampire? Preposterous.

"Yes, I-"

There's a sudden commotion outside the room at that moment, fortunately cutting Charles' no doubt ridiculous attempt of trying to make up a lie, when Ms Frost comes inside, her eyes hard as she makes a signal to Mr. Shaw who, upon seeing her, stands up rigidly from his seat.

"I'm sorry, Charles, there seems to be an issue of importance I must attend to but please, remain seated and I will soon be with you." And with that, he exits the room, the door closing behind him and leaving Charles alone in the cold, mirrored room.

The quiet and the fact that he cannot see his reflection on the high mirror-covered walls are unnerving and Charles picks up his pocket-watch to check the time. His blue eyes widen when he sees that it's a quarter to six, which means less than half an hour before sunrise.

Alarmed, he stands up quickly and goes to the door which proves to be locked when Charles tries to open it. Confused, he grips the metal knob tightly and gives it a tug but the door doesn't budge.

"Mr. Shaw?" he says loudly, a hint of desperation in his voice. He feels like a caged animal, put on display for an audience he can't face.

There's no answer and Charles turns around, facing the room and checking for other possible exits. He walks around it with measured steps, and when he reaches the far end of it, next to the mini-bar, he sees a small window hidden behind an iron metal cabinet. Soft light comes out of it and a feeling of dread engulfs Charles.

He bends closer to the window and presses his face hesitantly on it, mindful of the light sunrays that touch his pale face like prickly feathers and the sight that greets him leaves him momentarily speechless.

Two hooded figures stand still in the middle of the estate's garden outside with their backs to Charles while a third one is kneeling on the ground, uncovered and thrashing into what appears to be tight bonds. The man is probably yelling, Charles can see his mouth moving fast and wide but the figures above him don't pay attention to him.

As the sun slowly starts to rise, the hooded figures run inside the sanctuary of the building while the bound man tries in vain to free himself with jerky moves.

At that exact moment, everything stops making sense to Charles. He doesn't know what gets into him -later, he will claim that he felt for the poor soul, kicking and screaming in pain, while the light softly fell upon him- but, without any conscious thought, he pushes the window open with a hard move, quickly crawling outside and then all but running towards the man, all the while the slowly rising sun above him making his skin impossibly itchy.

The smell of burned flesh invades his nostrils before he even comes close enough to the man whose face has now turned an ugly shade of red, charred skin all over his cheeks and arms, wrists bleeding obviously from his attempts to free himself.

Charles feels his own skin burn now that the sun is getting visible on the sky and he grits his teeth, biting his lips hard enough to draw blood. He can't help but cry in pain when a particularly vicious sunray catches him across the face, his eyes cringing and his hands coming up to protect himself from the light.

With jerky moves, he tries to untie the tight bounds from the man's wrists while keeping his head bowed at the same time, away from the sun's unforgivable attention. The man however isn't helping the situation by thrashing and screaming inside Charles' ears.

"Please," Charles rasps, "I'm trying to help you, please calm yourself."

The other man doesn't give any sign that he hears him, continuing to kick and jerk instead, and Charles grabs him tightly by his shoulders and brings their faces closer together.

"I _will_ free you, but please stop moving!" he says brokenly and the man, while he doesn't cease his wild movements completely, pauses in his anguish for a moment to look at Charles through watery red eyes.

"Alright, my friend?" Charles whispers and then quickly returns to the task at hand, untying the tight knots first on the man's left, then on his right wrist.

"And now," Charles grips the man who sways on his feet at first before standing still with Charles' help, "we need to _run_."


End file.
